Patrick and I have found ourselves very confused. This city is just weirding us out. It’s like we’re in a Portuguese oasis far away from Brazil, because this is nothing like what I thought Brazil would be like. It radiates rules, organization, boundaries and nothing to do but eat good food (phew). I got laughed at yesterday over and over because I couldn’t speak Portuguese. They just couldn’t fathom it, they thought it was hysterical. This made me laugh hysterically myself. They clearly wanted to help but, well, first I didn’t want them to and it wasn’t always easy to have them leave you alone. I had someone who searched his store for an English speaker before trying to tell me there was no one and I just kept trying to say it’s ok. It’s ok it’s ok! (Thumbs up) I look only! (Point to eyes). I really think that I have never had such a major issue with the language barrier before, even in Portuguese Africa. Even they can understand a word or two of English. We had the taxi drive us to the shopping center and when we went to leave there, there was no taxi in sight. None. We had to walk along the road which really was not pedestrian-friendly at all until we came upon a Hyundai dealer. We stopped there for some car service prices and ended up talking to a super nice guy who spoke perfect English; he had lived in NY for a long while. He gave us a long list of great restaurants to visit while we were going to be here. We finally ended up getting a taxi back (taxis don’t appear to be used that often in this city, it seems most people drive.)
We wanted to go to dinner yesterday at one of the suggested restaurants. We got in the taxi, and arrived at a small center with a gym on the first floor and a spa on the second floor and that’s all we could see. “Is this Camaroes? We asked the driver. Yes, yes. We got in an elevator and pressed the “restaurant” button for the 3rd floor. We were at a restaurant, but there was no name of this restaurant anywhere. In fact, the menu even had an advertisement for a different restaurant (I was convinced that the different restaurant was the one we were actually at). We had no idea where we were, or if we were at the right place. It was so strange. We sat outside and cracked up as I tried to tell the waiter no nuts but he completely thought I was talking about looking for a creamy entree. Then it took forever to order and he found a guy who spoke some English to help out a little in order to pick “the best entrée” because Patrick and I couldn’t read a word of the menu. We both got girly drinks, and when Patrick tried to order a beer, he got another girly drink. Then it took a while even to get a taxi because we had language issues. Wouldn’t you think TAXI is an international term? Once we said taxi, the hostess said tax… tax… no TAXI Patrick said. Eventually we figured it out, but not before causing the girl to have to go behind the wall and crack up which caused me to crack up as well. The only way we found out we were actually at the right restaurant was because Patrick’s charge slip said it. Ahhh what a really strange city. Really. We live in the hotel sector which is all hotels dating back to the 60’s. The architecture is all from the 60’s, or appears to be as well - all space-lookin architecture. Probably one of the strangest places I have ever been.
Today I slept in. To 12. It was really nice, especially because I couldn’t sleep well at all last night. I kept having the strangest, broadest range of nightmares from spiders crawling on me to people being in my room (coming in from the door and the balcony) and my friends drugging me so I had no idea what was going on, to trying to scream and not being able to. Very disturbing. Time to get a move on to the day…. Lata!!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
Brasilia
Today, same stuff as yesterday. Pretty uneventful – had no problems with permission. Language is really a huge barrier here for some strange reason. Usually when I have a problem it’s not that hard to deal with, but I’m wishing I was able to say a little more than bon tard and bon noch and obrigado. It’s an odd sense of uncomfortableness walking into a store. I can picture how odd it would be if someone came into my store speaking only some strange foreign language, like French or Italian. I would think it was really strange they couldn’t speak my language. I think that’s how they feel here, since Brazil is such a large country and the city is land-locked surrounding the rest of Brazil. I don’t normally feel this way about international cities, but I’m kinda starting to feel like the locals are wondering why the hell some random American who can’t speak Portuguese is hanging around in Brasilia. I relate it to a French tourist traveling to east-bum-f*** Montana – I’m sure they would wonder why someone who doesn’t speak English has even wandered into the country.
The city is very modern so the availability is very good, (except for name-brand clothing). There is an eery sense of security here, whether or not it is true or known is relatively unknown; though the locals seem to express that it is a safe city. Patrick mentioned that maybe that’s why it was built here some 50 odd years ago – it’s away from the rest of civilization – let’s build a city in the middle of nowhere and ask people to come live here and we’ll call it the capital of our country. Sure, makes sense. It’s perfectly methodically planned out unlike any other city in the world. As boring as that makes it, it’s actually quite captivating at the same time. And the building structure is uniquely modern in an outer- space 70’s style kinda way. I’m still trying to get a handle on the city so I’m not quite sure what to make of it just yet.
Patrick and I had a productive first half of the day at the grocery store and then at a nearby mall. We went to some surrounding stores as well and then decided to call it a half-day and do some bookwork at the hotel. We planned on doing some calls/online work as well, but beer got in the way of that plan. I then checked out the gym for all of 20 minutes and got ready for dinner. By recommendation of the hotel, we went to a steak house just around the corner from the hotel. It wasn’t what we would normally consider a steak house, because it was what we would call a Brazilian barbecue. I had never been to one. What better way to experience it than in Brazil itself. The food was all wonderful. The salad bar was incredible in itself. And I tried so many different types of meat which I can’t remember what they are for the life of me. Except I do know that I ate a chicken heart. Yum. Service here at the restaurants is pretty unique as well. Fairly exquisite. They pull your chair out, place your napkin, make sure there are more than enough guys to take your order and get you anything you need. It was a nice dinner. After talking online tonight, I’m exhausted. Goodnight.
The city is very modern so the availability is very good, (except for name-brand clothing). There is an eery sense of security here, whether or not it is true or known is relatively unknown; though the locals seem to express that it is a safe city. Patrick mentioned that maybe that’s why it was built here some 50 odd years ago – it’s away from the rest of civilization – let’s build a city in the middle of nowhere and ask people to come live here and we’ll call it the capital of our country. Sure, makes sense. It’s perfectly methodically planned out unlike any other city in the world. As boring as that makes it, it’s actually quite captivating at the same time. And the building structure is uniquely modern in an outer- space 70’s style kinda way. I’m still trying to get a handle on the city so I’m not quite sure what to make of it just yet.
Patrick and I had a productive first half of the day at the grocery store and then at a nearby mall. We went to some surrounding stores as well and then decided to call it a half-day and do some bookwork at the hotel. We planned on doing some calls/online work as well, but beer got in the way of that plan. I then checked out the gym for all of 20 minutes and got ready for dinner. By recommendation of the hotel, we went to a steak house just around the corner from the hotel. It wasn’t what we would normally consider a steak house, because it was what we would call a Brazilian barbecue. I had never been to one. What better way to experience it than in Brazil itself. The food was all wonderful. The salad bar was incredible in itself. And I tried so many different types of meat which I can’t remember what they are for the life of me. Except I do know that I ate a chicken heart. Yum. Service here at the restaurants is pretty unique as well. Fairly exquisite. They pull your chair out, place your napkin, make sure there are more than enough guys to take your order and get you anything you need. It was a nice dinner. After talking online tonight, I’m exhausted. Goodnight.
Please hold the plane - thanks.
So I land in Brazil, and I have received a text from a co-worker. “Are you in the airport?” I text him back; it’s 9:03 PM and my next flight leaves at 10. I tell him I am worried because I’m cutting it close. Then, I get off the plane and realize that I still need to pick up my baggage. Ugh. Now I’m more worried. But, at least my co-worker tells me that it’s a really simple process. This is good. He keeps reassuring me, even when it approaches 9:24 and there is still no sign of anyone’s bags. Finally, by 9:30 I am bag in hand, run through customs as fast as possible, then on to the transfer counter where I hear them talking about my flight but have no idea what they are saying because it’s all in Portuguese. The girl at the counter hurdles over the desk to put my bag on the scale, but she needs help. I guess it’s heavy. Even though she speaks in Portuguese I can understand her. She tells me to run, so I do. I briefly panic because I don’t know where I’m going but finally, I’ve got it. I approach security and there is a man yelling Brasilia (last call) – Portuguese again. I stick my hand up and yell.. ME!!! ME!!! He sees me and motions me to come up front, I throw my bag through the security belt, don’t even take out the computer or take off my shoes, and then we’re off running ; walky-talky guy leading the way. “Do you have a friend waiting for you?” He says. Oh Patrick, I sure do. Thank goodness for him. We run out the door and he tells me to get into a car parked just outside, and I get a personal taxi to the plane. I thank him and hurry on the plane quickly as the doors seal behind me. Phew!!!
The taxi driver took us on a ride to our hotel. What a dick. We paid twice the amount we should have; good thing it’s not our money! I need to find an ATM tomorrow. My card worked in NY but so far it’s not working here. Our hotel is alright. They call themselves a 5 star but really, it was a 5 star when it opened 50 years ago. It’s old and could use some renovations. Oh well, apparently all the hotels are nearly the same here.
So far, Brasilia is not too exciting. No one speaks English here. It’s a 75+ degree wintertime here, now. No permission problems, so far luckily. After asking permission at one electronic store the guy told me to go outside and come in the employee entrance and sign in there before I was able to take down prices. Not really sure what kind of difference that made, but I did it anyways.
I probably had the most fancy dinner service tonight. Cleaning the table with a little comber, the dinner presented with a cover on top, 3 waiters just to take your order and then stand there staring at you until you order something. Crazy stuff. But, we had 5 beers but didn’t order more than 2. Not sure quite how that happened. OK time for sleep, goodnight.
The taxi driver took us on a ride to our hotel. What a dick. We paid twice the amount we should have; good thing it’s not our money! I need to find an ATM tomorrow. My card worked in NY but so far it’s not working here. Our hotel is alright. They call themselves a 5 star but really, it was a 5 star when it opened 50 years ago. It’s old and could use some renovations. Oh well, apparently all the hotels are nearly the same here.
So far, Brasilia is not too exciting. No one speaks English here. It’s a 75+ degree wintertime here, now. No permission problems, so far luckily. After asking permission at one electronic store the guy told me to go outside and come in the employee entrance and sign in there before I was able to take down prices. Not really sure what kind of difference that made, but I did it anyways.
I probably had the most fancy dinner service tonight. Cleaning the table with a little comber, the dinner presented with a cover on top, 3 waiters just to take your order and then stand there staring at you until you order something. Crazy stuff. But, we had 5 beers but didn’t order more than 2. Not sure quite how that happened. OK time for sleep, goodnight.
10 hour flights are THE BEST!!
I planned for a torturous 10 hour plane ride. I’m really glad that airlines usually overstate the time that we will actually be in the air. Before I knew it, we were already down to 7.5 hours left. But, just checking in took me over an hour. The worst I had seen in a long time. They had no convenient check-in computers like most of the airlines have these days, and it was just taking forever. When I finally got up to the front, I was told my 11.5 kg carryon was too heavy for the airplane, and that only 5 kg would be accepted. WHAT? This is an international flight! Just a laptop computer itself would weigh 5 kg! Even funnier, when I took everything that I possibly could out of my carryon to place in my checked baggage (without taking out the really important stuff) my checked bag weighed over 30 kg, which most airlines usually do have an issue with. But she said nothing. This made no sense to me. I politely but firmly mentioned that I could get the weight down to 8.5 kg, but everything else in that bag absolutely needed to come with me on the flight. She was OK with it. Ironically, I looked out and saw many other people with much larger bags than me. Who knows, maybe it’s because I have a US passport.
This is probably one of the worst international flights I have been on in a while. The seats are absurdly cramped and the entertainment is very limited. The “map” that they offer permanently shows the plane situated near Hamilton, Bermuda. And in many cases, unless I stare at the stewardesses they make no notice of me and skip whatever they are giving out to people, maybe because I am in an aisle seat. I hate aisle seats. I got some food that had almonds in the rice and a nutty-looking dessert. Then I briefly fell asleep and had this very vivid 5 second dream of the plane suddenly taking a dive down and everyone screaming, and then we hit water and I woke up. So much for sleeping the rest of the flight. At least I have some nice people around me and the bathrooms aren’t too bad. I guess just about anything isn’t going to seem that great after my business class flight from France. But, at least somehow the time has disappeared and there is only an hour until we land, and I am caught up on work which is always a great feeling.
This is probably one of the worst international flights I have been on in a while. The seats are absurdly cramped and the entertainment is very limited. The “map” that they offer permanently shows the plane situated near Hamilton, Bermuda. And in many cases, unless I stare at the stewardesses they make no notice of me and skip whatever they are giving out to people, maybe because I am in an aisle seat. I hate aisle seats. I got some food that had almonds in the rice and a nutty-looking dessert. Then I briefly fell asleep and had this very vivid 5 second dream of the plane suddenly taking a dive down and everyone screaming, and then we hit water and I woke up. So much for sleeping the rest of the flight. At least I have some nice people around me and the bathrooms aren’t too bad. I guess just about anything isn’t going to seem that great after my business class flight from France. But, at least somehow the time has disappeared and there is only an hour until we land, and I am caught up on work which is always a great feeling.
Continent hopping: Africa, Europe, USA!!! (for 1 night)
Getting back into the USA is always a breath of fresh air. And, it was nice to arrive and then know I was done for the day, even if I wasn’t going to get back to Boston. Though, it took about an hour for my hotel pickup to actually pick me up. I was already annoyed when I got to the hotel, and then they tell me that my room wasn’t going to be ready for another half hour. This was killing me. I don’t think I have gotten in anywhere on survey thus far where my room wasn’t ready for me as soon as I arrived at the hotel. Really, I just got in from 24 hours of travel and you really don’t have my room ready? BLAH.
The day went by fast, I spent some time catching up on emails and preparing to send the Fed Ex back home. Eventually when it came time, it felt great to take a shower. After my spa time, I had showered but I couldn’t figure out which one was the shampoo so I just rinsed my hair after a greasy head massage. And I smelled. The lovely spa perfumes just weren’t doing the trick anymore, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed it if I was still in Africa after getting use to the smell of body odor.
I tried on my new lovely African tube top dress I had bought at the market, it was scratchy material, but very pleasant to wear otherwise. Somehow I had forgotten to take my contacts cases with me and it was driving me crazy. I had contacts, solution, but no cases. I meant to stop to grab some at the drugstore now that I was finally in a country that had good availability of products (haha still in work mode) but never got around to it.
I had some really yummy greek food with my sis and her BF Shane that night. We stayed in. It felt good, but after the first half hour and before our food even came I was just exhausted. It was four hours ahead where I had come from and I only got airplane-sleep the night before. By the time I got home and into bed, I only had 5.5 hours to sleep. When my phone alarm woke me in the morning, I shut it off half-consciously, but was very glad to receive a phone call that I had scheduled from the front desk. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure that I absolutely wouldn’t have woken up.
The day went by fast, I spent some time catching up on emails and preparing to send the Fed Ex back home. Eventually when it came time, it felt great to take a shower. After my spa time, I had showered but I couldn’t figure out which one was the shampoo so I just rinsed my hair after a greasy head massage. And I smelled. The lovely spa perfumes just weren’t doing the trick anymore, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed it if I was still in Africa after getting use to the smell of body odor.
I tried on my new lovely African tube top dress I had bought at the market, it was scratchy material, but very pleasant to wear otherwise. Somehow I had forgotten to take my contacts cases with me and it was driving me crazy. I had contacts, solution, but no cases. I meant to stop to grab some at the drugstore now that I was finally in a country that had good availability of products (haha still in work mode) but never got around to it.
I had some really yummy greek food with my sis and her BF Shane that night. We stayed in. It felt good, but after the first half hour and before our food even came I was just exhausted. It was four hours ahead where I had come from and I only got airplane-sleep the night before. By the time I got home and into bed, I only had 5.5 hours to sleep. When my phone alarm woke me in the morning, I shut it off half-consciously, but was very glad to receive a phone call that I had scheduled from the front desk. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure that I absolutely wouldn’t have woken up.
BUSINESS CLASS baby
I arrived at the airport where I was told that my flight hadn’t even left Dakar yet and it was going from Dakar to Freetown back to Dakar and then to pick us up in Banjul. Excellent. Oh well, I sat around for a little while longer and even had an airport worker (lady) tell me that I was no good cause I wasn’t married, but of course the guy standing next to me immediately obliged. I had someone already tell me that he wanted to talk to me when I was in the terminal waiting for the plane.
Banjul is a very interesting society. It consists of super poor black people, and well –off white people who come to vacation. Many of the white people who come to visit take on “mates” while they are visiting, especially the older women. Because this happens regularly, the guys, and I’m sure girls as well are always driven to do whatever they can to target and get involved with whatever white person of the opposite sex they happen to see. It’s almost a competition of sorts, so it seemed. For many of them, it poses as the only chance at a potentially better life. On the lighter side, it’s pretty hilarious to see huge fat ugly white women with thin young good-looking black men. And there are many of these couples around. This was confirmed, by the way, but 2 sources of both races.
My flight to France wasn’t too bad. Surprisingly, Senegal to France was only 5 hours, and I got to fly on Air France. I felt fairly safe on it especially after the recent crash. Ha, no really. But then even better, from France to the USA, (an 8 hour flight), I was UPGRADED to business class! It was awesome. The chairs even recline all the way down so you can actually sleep fairly comfortably, they give you hot wet cloths to wipe your face and hands, AND they give you a menu of their food for the day, which included foi e gras and roasted duck (you bet I kept the menu). It must have been the best flight ever.
Banjul is a very interesting society. It consists of super poor black people, and well –off white people who come to vacation. Many of the white people who come to visit take on “mates” while they are visiting, especially the older women. Because this happens regularly, the guys, and I’m sure girls as well are always driven to do whatever they can to target and get involved with whatever white person of the opposite sex they happen to see. It’s almost a competition of sorts, so it seemed. For many of them, it poses as the only chance at a potentially better life. On the lighter side, it’s pretty hilarious to see huge fat ugly white women with thin young good-looking black men. And there are many of these couples around. This was confirmed, by the way, but 2 sources of both races.
My flight to France wasn’t too bad. Surprisingly, Senegal to France was only 5 hours, and I got to fly on Air France. I felt fairly safe on it especially after the recent crash. Ha, no really. But then even better, from France to the USA, (an 8 hour flight), I was UPGRADED to business class! It was awesome. The chairs even recline all the way down so you can actually sleep fairly comfortably, they give you hot wet cloths to wipe your face and hands, AND they give you a menu of their food for the day, which included foi e gras and roasted duck (you bet I kept the menu). It must have been the best flight ever.
Spa Day in Africa
Joe left last night. He got really mad the night before over a taxi pickup which they shouldn’t have charged us for, but they did. It was frustrating. Even though the hotel is gorgeous, the customer service sure does leave something to be desired.
Today was my spa day. It was incredible. I got a bath, a full-body exfoliation, and a full-body massage. Amazing. Though, I was really a bit surprised when it was just expected that I would be stripping down to my undies (no bra) for the masseus, showering practically in front of her (cause the scrub needed to come off) and then didn’t realize that my breasts were included when putting on the full-body scrub. It was a bit awkward at first until I started getting comfortable with my nakedness. It was a bit of a liberating feeling. I didn’t want to leave the spa.
I said bye to my spa friend. His name is Mila. I’m sure he just wanted a shot at a foreign white chick, but he was a nice guy who took a chance at talking to me while I was at the gym and he was working (the workers were not allowed to speak to guests aside from cheerful hellos). He told me working there, they were promised “good luck and sprits”, tips from the guests, and decent money. He saw none of this. I gave him my business card so that he could have my email and write. I doubt I’ll hear from him.
Now, I had to leave the spa. But before I left, I had a quick bite at the hotel. The restaurant that I ate in for lunch was directly on the beach, practically. There was a guy who was watching me, staring while I ate lunch, from the beach. He psssssssssssst me (which is what they do in Africa to get anyone’s attention), said hi, repeatedly, and I finally couldn’t take it anymore and gave in and said hi back. He didn’t say much else aside from staring most of the time, and then he came up to one more time again and said hi. Then, he said he was going home, so he wanted to say bye. It was so bizarre. I wanted to give him my french-fries or something, but I didn’t think it would be socially acceptable to feed a beachperson through the holes in the restaurant. He was wearing tattered clothing and was alone. I felt so awkward. Such a strange place, Gambia is. Such a vast disparity, it’s just a mixture of well-off and extremely poor. I just felt wrong sitting there in my perfect little world, in a gorgeous picturesque hotel right above/next to him, eating a burger he couldn’t afford and getting first class service while he sat right outside probably wondering what it was like to be me. As much as I loved Gambia for how well they catered to tourists, it really was a bit of a psychologically messed up experience for me.
Also, I had a tough taxi ride. Joe had warned me a little bit. Our quiet taxi driver we had used all week asked us for a) an invitation letter to come to the US, or b) help with money so that he could buy his own taxi and stop renting it daily from some other guy for the price that he normally got on a good day, especially in the rainy season. Ugh, this was tough, and once again, sad. I tried to explain, for US standards I really don’t have much money – which I’m sure he found hard to believe after knowing which hotel we stayed in and what kind of meals we ate every day.
Today was my spa day. It was incredible. I got a bath, a full-body exfoliation, and a full-body massage. Amazing. Though, I was really a bit surprised when it was just expected that I would be stripping down to my undies (no bra) for the masseus, showering practically in front of her (cause the scrub needed to come off) and then didn’t realize that my breasts were included when putting on the full-body scrub. It was a bit awkward at first until I started getting comfortable with my nakedness. It was a bit of a liberating feeling. I didn’t want to leave the spa.
I said bye to my spa friend. His name is Mila. I’m sure he just wanted a shot at a foreign white chick, but he was a nice guy who took a chance at talking to me while I was at the gym and he was working (the workers were not allowed to speak to guests aside from cheerful hellos). He told me working there, they were promised “good luck and sprits”, tips from the guests, and decent money. He saw none of this. I gave him my business card so that he could have my email and write. I doubt I’ll hear from him.
Now, I had to leave the spa. But before I left, I had a quick bite at the hotel. The restaurant that I ate in for lunch was directly on the beach, practically. There was a guy who was watching me, staring while I ate lunch, from the beach. He psssssssssssst me (which is what they do in Africa to get anyone’s attention), said hi, repeatedly, and I finally couldn’t take it anymore and gave in and said hi back. He didn’t say much else aside from staring most of the time, and then he came up to one more time again and said hi. Then, he said he was going home, so he wanted to say bye. It was so bizarre. I wanted to give him my french-fries or something, but I didn’t think it would be socially acceptable to feed a beachperson through the holes in the restaurant. He was wearing tattered clothing and was alone. I felt so awkward. Such a strange place, Gambia is. Such a vast disparity, it’s just a mixture of well-off and extremely poor. I just felt wrong sitting there in my perfect little world, in a gorgeous picturesque hotel right above/next to him, eating a burger he couldn’t afford and getting first class service while he sat right outside probably wondering what it was like to be me. As much as I loved Gambia for how well they catered to tourists, it really was a bit of a psychologically messed up experience for me.
Also, I had a tough taxi ride. Joe had warned me a little bit. Our quiet taxi driver we had used all week asked us for a) an invitation letter to come to the US, or b) help with money so that he could buy his own taxi and stop renting it daily from some other guy for the price that he normally got on a good day, especially in the rainy season. Ugh, this was tough, and once again, sad. I tried to explain, for US standards I really don’t have much money – which I’m sure he found hard to believe after knowing which hotel we stayed in and what kind of meals we ate every day.
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